


Don't Let 'Em Touch

by LT_Aldo_Raine



Series: jealous? [2]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Boys In Love, Could Be Canon, Jealous!Gene, Jealousy, M/M, could be modern au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 09:12:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19742614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LT_Aldo_Raine/pseuds/LT_Aldo_Raine
Summary: Gene looked at Babe, plainly, and asked, “Did he fuck you?”OR: Babe gets groped at a bar and questions of jealousy arise—and it’s exactly what you think.





	Don't Let 'Em Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. Here's what would've happened if Gene *had* gotten jealous. Angry!Gene is a whole mood.

“Why are ya jealous?”

“What don’t I got to be jealous of?”

“What? Gene, you can’t be serious.”

Gene looked at Babe, plainly, his usually open face now a stoic mask, and asked, “He fuck you?”

“What?!” Babe’s stomach dropped and he braced his arms against their kitchen table. “No, of course not. Jesus Christ. _You know_ that didn’t happen! You were with me the whole night. How the fuck could you think that, Gene?”

This conversation was rapidly spiraling out of control. This was _not_ how Babe thought this shit would go down. He had wanted an apology, maybe a little groveling, and for Gene to at least have the goddamn decency to look repentant for acting like a jealous jackass. The redhead’s ire and irritation were only magnified when Gene shrugged sarcastically and muttered, “Oh, well that makes it all okay, then.”

“Gene, the guy had his hands _on me,_ okay? Not the other way ‘round—”

“I know exactly where his hands were, Heffron,” Gene snapped, the edge of his voice just as hard and sharp as the knife he was currently using to peel potatoes at their kitchen sink. The Cajun added, a bitter note in his voice. “You didn’t want him to touch ya, you could’a stopped ‘im.”

Babe scoffed, incredulity coiling in his stomach. “You’re un-fucking-believable. I can’t believe you’re actin’ like I’m the fuckin’ bad guy here. I mean, I get it, ya got a bit territorial or whateva, but fuck’s sake, Gene, its not like the guy was beggin’ for it.”

“So, m’just supposed to stand there and watch this shit ‘cause he ain’t humpin’ your leg, yet?”

“ _Nothing happened_ ,” Babe implored, sick of Gene’s angry, accusatory tone.

And when the Cajun neglected to respond, opting for the cold shoulder instead, Babe lost it. The redhead stood abruptly and declared, “Man, fuck this,” before he stormed from the kitchen. He made it all of two steps into the living room when he felt Gene at his back, the irate Cajun shouting, “You cain’t act like I got no right to be angry!”

“Be angry, Gene! Fuck!” Babe replied, his voice pitched with frustration and matched to Gene’s obnoxious volume. “But be mad at the right fuckin’ guy—which ain’t me!”

When their eyes met, Babe’s gaze was full of hurt and rejection, and Gene’s was full of fury and, perhaps, betrayal. “Babe,” Gene growled, and Babe hated it, hated the way his name was spat off of his lover’s tongue like a bad taste and not spoken in the usual, soulful way that went straight to Babe’s heart. “I cain’t help it if I’m jealous. I had to watch another man _put his hands—_ ” the Cajun’s voice dropped to a deadly rumble, and he punctuated each word with spite. “—on _you_.”

The rage and upset in Gene’s dark gaze made the tension in Babe’s shoulder loosen just so. Babe unclenched his teeth, willed himself to let go of his own resentment, and cupped his hands around the raven-haired man’s biceps. “Ya made ya’self pretty clear, alright, Gene? But I’m tellin’ ya, you don’t got anythin’ to be jealous of, honest.”

The redhead’s tender cadence and earnest expression seemed to calm Gene a touch. The Cajun’s brow remained furrowed, his lips pinched, but his eyes were open and hopeful. “Babe…that man from the bar, or any other man for that matter, they don’t get to touch you. Yo’ body ain’t there’s to touch. Its yours, and its mine. Only, ya didn’t seem the least bit concerned when he was grabbin’ at’cha.”

“Oh, Gene,” murmured the redhead softly. The corners of his lips twitched into the hint of an affectionate smile as his brain finally caught up with where the Cajun was coming from. “That guy? Sure, I didn’t like him touchin’ on me and shit, but I didn’t make a big deal about it ‘cause at the end of the day, it don’t really matter. He can grab and touch all he likes—'cause I know that’s all it’ll eva be. Don’t ya get it?”

Babe captured Gene’s hands in his own and tugged the shorter man toward their living room sofa. The morning sun was gently streaming in through the open window, and Babe took a second to marvel at how the early light haloed Gene’s dark hair. Their knees brushing, Babe held his lover’s hands in his lap as he implored the Cajun to hear him out. “I trust ya, Genie. Trust ya with my whole heart. And I need ya to trust me. I need ya to know that every goddamn man from here to Tennessee could come at me, and I’d _neva_ let it go anywhere. _Never,_ Gene. I would neva be unfaithful to you…” Slender fingers moved to cup a pale cheek, slightly pink with an angry flush. “You need to know that ain’t nobody else gonna kiss me—” A thumb stroked over a thin bottom lip. “Ain’t nobody else eva gonna get to hold me close and hug me tight—” Fingers skimmed through a mess of sleep-tousled raven hair. “And certainly, ain’t nobody else eva gonna make love to me.”

“So,” Babe continued, softly. “Let ‘em look, let ‘em touch, if they want…they can try all they like, but it’s _you_ I’m comin’ home with. You that’s gonna get to touch me and tease me and fuck me and love me. So, why the hell would you be jealous of them when _you—_ and _only_ you—get me? Hell, Gene, they should all be jealous of _us_.”

The redhead held Gene’s face in his hands, eyes all sincere and doting, full of unrestricted adoration, and Gene felt his indignation and hurt all but melt away. He shut his eyes against the crushing weight of Babe Heffron’s undying devotion and his goddamn puppy dog face. “Well, great.” Gene sighed and admitted with a grumble, “Now, I feel like a jackass.”

Babe gave a surprised laugh. “Don’t.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to Gene’s lips, and the shorter man’s eyes fluttered open. “Frankly, I think it’s kinda adorable, and maybe even a lil’ bit sexy, the way ya get all riled up over this kinda stuff.”

“And now ya mockin’ me.” Gene snorted, running a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted as the last of his animosity was depleted. “Perfect.”

But Babe was smiling, and Gene felt that his voice had been heard, and so he only half meant it when he asked, “Fine, ya love me and only me, but damn, Babe, is it still too much to ask that ya hit a guy once in a while for groping at ya? Or in the very least, that ya don’t get so goddamn angry with me the next time I do?”

“Ya know, when we first got togetha, I thought for certain you could neva be the violent type…”

“Yeah, well,” Gene’s lips pursed like he’d eaten something sour. “They don’t call us Ragin’ Cajuns for nothin’.”

Amused, Babe kissed him again and made a suggestion. “How’s about ya don’t hit anybody, but I promise to yell at the next fella that decides to get handsy, alright?”

“…in front of people? Like, in public?”

“Of course, in public, and ya know how loud I can be…”

Gene hesitated, then with a kiss, muttered, “Deal.” 


End file.
